


hot & steamy

by lizbobjones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Tumblr Prompt, blatant misuse of the bunker shower room which they've never let us see a wide shot of, human cas, probably loosely post-season 12 somewhere out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 20:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizbobjones/pseuds/lizbobjones
Summary: Anonymous asked:Try not to think about Dean not knowing Cas was about to shower and walking in on him makes and starring in awe and lust. Cas nervously grabbing a towel to cover. Dean pushing him against the wall and kissing him lustfully and him going down on him. Just don't think about that.(In which Lizzy fails a will save.Originally posted on Tumblr.)





	hot & steamy

The Bunker’s shower room is communal. Not really an issue when it’s just Sam and Dean. Two of them hardly crowd the place and the ancient pipes creak and groan to give warning that someone is taxing them right across the complex. They know each other’s routine so well they fit around each other seamlessly. They can even pick favourite showers on opposite sides of the room to clutter up with their shampoo and body wash.

Of course Cas wrecks the whole balance; he indiscriminately uses up their product and has showers at any hour of the day unannounced. Finding his rhythm being human, maybe, but Sam finally has someone to blame twice as often as Dean for using up what looked like the entire last quarter of the bottle of conditioner.

And Dean is too used to the unspoken schedule that lets him blunder out of bed and down a coffee and like clockwork walk into the shower room confident that Sam was done there an hour ago and has been in the library ever since.  
He doesn’t even listen to the pipes.

He opens the door, stack of clothes under his arm, and freezes at the sight of Cas in the middle of the row of showers, face turned up to meet the flow of water, eyes firmly closed.

Not that that’s the first thing he notices, or the firmest. He’s not an idiot, he knows Cas is fairly stacked under all his clothes, but he swapped the baggy trenchcoat for layers of hunter flannels without pause, and even human his true form was somehow beyond imagination to Dean. There’s an awful lot of taut muscle and a sense of cosmic unfairness he keeps that ass hidden from thought in shapeless clothes that keeps Dean pinned by the door, mouth open, clothes under his arm slowly sliding free to the floor.

Cas hasn’t seen him - small mercies - he can just go. Put this behind him as the most unfair glimpse of a forbidden thing that will haunt him to old age, if he gets that far. He doesn’t think Heaven will admit him to let him replay forever a stolen glimpse of the perky ass of one of its fallen own.

Yeah, he should really, really leave before this gets awkward for anyone but himself, and his burden to bear of just how much he lusts after the angel. Unrequited feelings are one thing - he can cram those down forever. This is going to take some active management. 

And then Cas, whether he hears something - the fine whine escaping Dean’s throat perhaps-  or feels the cold air of Dean standing in the open door, turns and looks over his shoulder.

“Oh, hello Dean,” he says, like he’s not standing there simultaneously tormenting Dean and using up all the hot water.

Dean makes a slightly louder strangled noise.

Cas turns around, like that’s just something you do in this situation, and stands there with the water beating on his shoulders, running in rivulets down his front, tracing all the planes of his body, heading inexorably downwards along with Dean’s gaze.

He doesn’t need to go to Hell yet again - this sight will be perfect torture through the rest of his life. 

“Are you about to shower? I took your body wash,” Cas says, like this is the only problem. With five other shower heads all in a row around him, maybe he’s right. It might be beyond weird to deliberately sync timetables with your brother to always shower at the same time, but he and Cas are grown up adult dudes who can occasionally share a shower room without it being creepy. 

Of course, that all takes rational thinking, and Dean is lagging miles behind in decisions and actions, so he just helplessly croaks, “Cas…” because he’s being helplessly creepy about it.

Cas finally seems to cotton on that he’s causing a scene - his face crumples with confusion, and then he glances down at himself and back at Dean, then makes a hesitant gesture to shield himself from view behind his hand. “I’m sorry, I- ” he steps out from under the water to grab his own towel. 

Dean probably shouldn’t feel more betrayed that Cas is going to cover up than horrified about all that’s just happened, but he feels too hit with a truck to be reasonably embarrassed yet. That will come later, he assumes.

Cas stops, holding his towel folded and bunched in both his hands, confused about Dean’s reaction, watching him closely. 

Starting to feel a bit too scrutinised for comfort, Dean unsticks his throat. “Ah, you uh d-don’t have to stop showering on my behalf.”

Cas frowns at him for way too long, then stops feigning shyness, and with another long look at Dean, puts the towel back down and returns to the shower.  
“All right. Close the door. You’re letting in cold air.”

Dean stumbles in and closes the door behind him.

He leans against the door and watches Cas turn away and let the shower fall on his chest, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the sensation more than washing.

Dean wonders how long he’s been in here. Sam probably didn’t eye him up like a piece of meat if he’d breezed through here for his post-run shower.

Thinking dumb thoughts about Sam is a good way to unstick himself from the floor and move forwards, peeling off his shirt and boxers, and turning his own shower on. It starts hot, thanks to Cas running the pipes ragged beside him, an unexpected perk. In truth, Dean has never managed to make the Bunker run out of hot water.

Trivial distracting thoughts shatter when he glances over at close quarters to look at Cas. The decision making part of his brain should be fired for how pathetically unresisted that action was.

Compared to a moment earlier, Cas is standing maybe three quarters fully to attention more. 

Dean’s decision making has him step out from under his shower, and in a moment he feels the water of Cas’s ricocheting off his shoulders and splattering Dean’s. It feels like more of a no going back point than, when Cas turns with open-mouthed awe, stepping further into the water and kissing Cas, pulled in with hands on his hips, a heel hooking over his calf as he walks Cas back to press his back against the tiled wall. Cas’s heel slides up to dig into the back of his thigh before Dean leans back from the kiss to check how Cas is taking it.  
With a hunger for more kisses - he pulls Dean in again, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders, groaning audibly over the noise of the shower.

Dean drinks his fill of Cas’s mouth and turns his attention to licking the water from his jaw, sucking his neck and chasing drops of water down the surface seemed worn into its solid edifice over millennia by the action on the rain. But hot, human skin, tasting sweet and clean under his tongue as he teases his way down, sinking to his knees to take Cas into his mouth; soft skin over more solid rock.

He feels like no one has been as lucky as he is to kneel in supplication, worshipping Cas with his tongue, two handfuls of his ass just because he can touch him. Water beats down on his shoulders, hot and steady pressure, as Cas takes Dean’s wet hair between the fingers of one hand to pull and soothe at the mercy of Dean’s mouth. His other hand grasps at the tile behind him, failing to find purchase on its smooth, wet surface.

Cas’s knees shake until they barely hold him up, and Dean bearing him into the wall is all his support. Dean stands, feeling his own knees creak and complain at the treatment. Cas pulls him to his feet and into a tight embrace, still breathing heavily. His hand sneaks between them as Dean looks to the shower to wash away a few unexpected tears, and he buries his face in Cas’s neck, letting him be the one now to push them around so Dean is the one against the wall, and Cas is pressing kisses against the side of his face. 

Dean lets go and they stand for a long time in the water, letting it rinse them slowly, until Dean, running his fingers around Cas’s and marvelling at the sight of their entwined hands, sees how wrinkled Cas’s fingers are. He turns the water off with regret, like it’s closing a chapter. Only without it falling around them does he see that his shower is still adding to the tropical ambience of the room. It’s so steamy he can hardly see the door across the room.

Cas pulls him in for another kiss.

“I’ll have to start showering in the morning every day,” he says, when he can bear to let Dean go.

Dean thinks he can fit that into his routine. 


End file.
